Pre-Dance 1: Approachable
As the queen swiftly exited the hall, Phoebe Willoughby found herself momentarily stunned, her heart pounding with a mixture of disappointment and anticipation. She had hoped for a more substantial interaction with Her Royal Highness, but the queen’s abrupt departure left her yearning for a good book back home in her cosy estate.
Gathering her composure, Phoebe took a deep breath, reminding herself that where she was. It has occurred her that she was still standing centerstage, so to speak. All eyes were fixated upon her. A wave of self-consciousness washed over her, making her feel exposed and vulnerable. The attention felt suffocating, her anxiety had its hands around her throat as her breathing got heavier. Putting a hand to her neck as calmly as her brain would allow, she turned back, swiftly making her way back out of the room.
Once out of the room and around the corner, she could breathe. Panic still clawed at her chest, urging her to retreat to the safety of solitude. She was about to, about to find a dark corner or room to hide in when… her mother, the right honourable Baroness Willoughby, approached her with a disapproving expression.
“Phoebe, dear, what happened? Why could you have done differently for the queen not to have left so suddenly?”, her mother asked, her voice tinged with disappointment.
Phoebe’s heart sank as she realised it was her mother here to chastise her. She knew she had to face her mother’s scrutiny, even if it pained her. Her soft and melodic voice cracked with nervousness in reply, “I’m not entirely sure, Mother. It seemed the queen may not have agreed with my choice of composer.”
Her mother’s disappointment was palpable. “Phoebe, you should have been more attentive. It was your duty to ensure a pleasant interaction with Her Royal Highness. You must learn to anticipate and adapt to such situations. This was a missed opportunity.”
Phoebe’s shoulders wanted to slump with each disappointed syllable, but that would only make matter worse. All she could do now was hope to impress both her mother and the queen at the ball later on. Determined to make the most of the ball, she took slow deep breath, straightened her posture, and met her mother’s gaze. “I apologise, Mother. I will learn from this experience and strive to make the rest of the evening memorable,” she replied, her voice filled with determination.
Her mother’s stern expression softened slightly, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “Very well, Phoebe. Show them the grace and elegance that I know you possess.”
Later on, her felt renewed with her mother’s words of encouragement. Adjusting her gown, she took a deep breath and entered the grandest ballroom she had ever seen. Her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and nerves, and then a swirl of conflicting emotions as she saw just how many unknown people there were here.
Phoebe couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed and again, there was her anxiety that crept up within her. Quickly she found a corner and placed her back into the crevice, looking out but remaining still, hoping that it would all be over shortly.